


a promise to return.

by baroquemirrors



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F, happy vauseman at last, some mild sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroquemirrors/pseuds/baroquemirrors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kissing Piper is the exact opposite of a nightmare - it’s the one thing Alex actually wouldn’t mind doing forever. If time felt like stopping for a while, right there in the cellblock bathroom, she'd probably be okay with it.</p><p>(vauseman at the end of season four, exploring the time machine motif)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a promise to return.

**Author's Note:**

> I've learned my lesson about not starting multichapter fics I can't keep up with, so here's something short and complete about Vauseman after season 4. Thanks for reading!

Sometimes Alex feels like time is playing tricks on her — speeding up and slowing down, repeating itself at odd moments.

At first, it only happens while she’s sleeping. She’ll be dreaming about the greenhouse, the crescendo of her heartbeat rising like the film score of a horror flick. As she leans on Aydin’s chest his last breath seems to last forever. The seconds should be passing but instead they’re standing still, and there's a sob trapped in Alex's throat as she watches her own hands commit murder.  Even after she wakes, it takes a while to convince herself it isn't still happening. Her fists are clenched so tight the fingernails have bloodied her palms a little. She kind of hates her hands, now; the knowledge of what they’ve done in the dark makes it hard for her to look at them.

The mattress creaks as Alex vacates it, grabbing a roll of toilet paper on her way out of her cube. She holds it aloft as she passes the CO bubble so the guard knows she’s headed for the bathroom. The corridors are only half-lit in a way that could still be the dreamscape, and the uncertainty of it makes her even more nauseous.

In the bathroom, under the harsh florescent lights, Alex staggers toward the sink to try and wash the fear away. Aydin’s name is climbing up her throat; she gulps down water, drowning it. A sudden shuffle of movement spooks her, but the reflection in the mirror is a familiar one: Piper’s face looms behind hers, looking worried.

“Hey,” she says, uncertainly. “Are you okay?” 

That seems to be Piper’s favorite phrase these days. There are other variations, like _‘How are you?’_ and _‘I’m worried about you,’_ and _‘Do you want to talk about it?’_ It’s all a little redundant, but Alex isn’t complaining. It’s nice to feel cared for. Already the dream is receding a little, as if Piper’s presence is a flashlight clicking on to chase the night away.

“I _was_ ,” Alex lies, faking bravado as she wipes water from her face. “Until you snuck up on me, Piper. Jesus.” 

She fumbles for her glasses and slides them back on as she turns around. There have been too many times lately where she has tried to meet Piper’s gaze only to find no one home inside of it. It’s a relief, now, to look at her and see something familiar instead of empty. Piper’s expression is soft, almost contrite, and it makes Alex a little suspicious. 

“Did you follow me?”

“What?” Piper blinks at her. “Of course not.”

Alex raises her eyebrows, scooting backward to sit on the counter between the sinks. 

“I had to pee,” Piper insists.

“Then where’s your toilet paper, genius.”

Piper pouts a little, sauntering toward her— or at least she tries to, because sauntering in prison pajamas is really more comical than it is sexy. Her fake show of innocence is replaced with a mischievous grin as stops in front of Alex.

“Oh look,” she says, reaching past Alex’s elbow to snag the roll she set aside. “Found some.”

“Smooth.” 

And then, because Piper’s eyes are shining and her mouth is shaped like laughter, Alex kisses her.The toilet paper falls to the floor as Piper pitches forward, her palms pressing into the tops of Alex’s thighs for balance. She has to stand on tiptoes to reach high enough, and Alex enjoys the way Piper strains toward her like the effort is more than worth it. When she pulls away to take a breath, Alex gently rubs noses with her.

“I missed you,” she admits.

“I know. You keep saying that.” Piper leans forward, solemnly pressing their foreheads together. “But I’m here now.”

It’s comforting how certain she sounds when she says it. It’s good to have her back. Not the distant, emotional-zombie Piper of the last few months, but the _real_ one, her Pipes, warm and genuine and fully present. Alex pulls her forward again, burying her fingers in the messy tangle of her hair, and remembers how the only time she doesn’t hate her hands is when they’re holding Piper; how she doesn’t feel as guilty for breathing when the air in her lungs comes from someone who loves her. 

_Kissing Pipe_ r is the exact opposite of a nightmare - it’s the one thing Alex actually wouldn’t mind doing forever.  If time felt like stopping for a while, right there in the cellblock bathroom, she'd probably be okay with it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t take long for them to become the family’s favorite source of amusement. Any time Alex shows up somewhere without Piper, teasing questions ensue. 

“Hey Vause, how’d you ditch your shadow?” 

“Can’t believe your bloodhound lost track of you!”

Then Piper appears, mere seconds later, and her presence prompts a chorus of delighted snickers.  Lorna has the grace to hide her mirth behind her hand; Nicky looks aggressively, unabashedly gleeful. “Nobody goes from hating each other’s guts to fucking ‘round the clock as often as you two.”

They’re not, actually, fucking that often. Ever since the meth heads destroyed the time machine there aren’t many good spots left for more than a quickie. Alex doesn’t mind; she wouldn’t trade sex for the way Piper presses their thighs together under the table at mealtimes, or the way she finds any excuse to pass by Alex during construction duty, brushing her hand reassuringly in passing. At lights-out, before Alex crawls into bed, they meet each other’s eyes across the dormitory, and Piper’s smile is like a promise of protection. Somehow, with nothing more than a look, she manages to make Alex feel less afraid of sleeping.

It feels amazing, the way Piper is always happy to see her. The way she’s constantly appearing, and never, ever leaves. 

 

* * *

 

 

Piper follows her into the bathroom again a few nights later. It wasn’t even a nightmare that woke Alex up this time, just her bladder, and even _she_ has to admit that it’s getting kind of comical the way she can’t even take a piss without her girlfriend trailing after her.

“Alex?”

“Yeah,” she answers, from inside the stall. “What gave me away?” 

“The sound of your urine stream is very distinctive.”

“Huh, good to know. I’ll remember not to pee when I’m trying to be stealthy."

Piper is waiting by the sinks when Alex emerges. She’s smiling, but she looks tired— the kind of tired that leaves physical evidence. Alex isn’t sure how she’s managed not to notice the bags under Piper’s eyes, which are so pronounced they have to be cumulative. She’s been so caught up in her own nightmares she never thought to consider that Piper might not be sleeping either.

“You okay?” she asks, frowning.

Instead of answering, Piper just reaches for her — lifts Alex’s shirt and slides fingertips up her ribcage as she steers her backward, toward the stall Alex vacated only seconds ago.

“Pipes—“

“Shh, it’s okay. Coates is on duty. He's asleep.” She pulls the door closed behind them and presses Alex against it. Her hands against Alex’s skin are frantic and her kisses are sloppy; there isn’t enough time to take things slow. But the benefit of these midnight trysts is that Piper always braless, which is the next best thing to actual nudity, and Alex takes full advantage of it as she slides her hands beneath Piper’s shirt.

“Not as cozy as the time machine,” Piper quips.

There are little things that have the power to collapse time and distance; the curve of Piper’s hips beneath her palms, the warmth of Piper’s breath against her collarbone. Sensations that blur the line between what is now, and what has been. If Alex closes her eyes she can picture the two of them elsewhere, a club bathroom in some foreign city or the bar where they first met.

“Pipes,” she tells her, “this _is_ the time machine.”

They kiss again, softer this time. 

“Where would you go?”

“Hm?” 

Piper’s hands still against her stomach. “In a time machine,” she says, serious all of a sudden.

They’ve already talked about this, sort of, but Alex thinks about it again. She could say Chicago; she could say she’d like to go back to the courthouse, do the trial over again, take back her testimony to avoid putting herself in danger and eventually having to kill someone. She could say Paris, the hotel room where she found out her mother was dead and Piper was leaving her, so she could fight harder to make Piper stay. Or she could say Northampton, to the apartment she had in the early days of her trafficking career. Sometimes Alex wishes she could go back there just to bask in the brightness of Piper’s smile the first time she said she loved her.  Maybe instead of trying to undo the bad moments, Alex would just like to live a little longer with the good ones.

She reaches for Piper’s hands. “I’d stay right here,” she tells her. 

And there it is— that look in Piper’s eyes. That hopeful shine more radiant than sunlight, that supernova of a smile.  She drags Alex’s hands lower, pushing them down to trace the angle of her hips. Alex closes her eyes, letting her memory drift while the familiar shape of Piper’s body keeps her tethered to the present. Piper is panting softly in her ear as she guides one of Alex's hands beneath her waistband, pressing it toward her waiting heat. 

Their mouths swallow each other’s silent apologies. Their fingertips write forgiveness onto one another’s skin. The years collapse until they’re flat a surface, and time doesn’t mean anything other than a promise to return to each other, always.

 

* * *

 

Piper doesn’t fair so well at breakfast the next morning. Her eyelids look heavy and her chin is practically drooping onto the pile of untouched, grayish eggs on her tray. Lorna and Nicky exchange knowing grins, and even Norma wears a faint, unmistakably fond smile. Having a family means there’s always someone in your personal business, and ordinarily Alex would find that annoying. But times have changed. Now, she’s totally okay with it— In fact, she kind of enjoys the attention. 

When their twenty minutes of breakfast time is over, she and Piper walk back to the dorm together. They’re not quite daring enough to hold hands with the hawkish new COs watching, but they let their fingertips brush past each other as they swing their arms in unison. Alex feels herself smiling, and doesn’t bother to try and hide it. 

“Come on, kid."

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my place."

They go to Alex’s cube, folding themselves inside the cave of her bottom bunk where no one else can see them. It’s so early in the morning that the sun hasn’t even risen yet, and many of the inmates who don’t have early work duty have gone back to sleep after their hasty breakfast. The dorm is blanketed in quiet. It feels as close to peaceful as prison can ever get.  They sit leaning against each other, thighs and hips and shoulders touching.

“Okay,” Alex says. “Seriously— why do you keep following me into the bathroom?”

She watches the way Piper’s mouth twitches at the corners, the way her eyes shift their focus toward the floor, the desk, anywhere but Alex — these are her telltale signs of guilt, indications that this is a conversation she’d rather not be having.

“It’s fine,” Alex assures her, reaching for Piper’s hand and pulling it gently into her lap. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Piper nods, squeezing Alex’s fingers. “Okay. I guess... because I left you alone, before. I didn’t believe you. And then” —she pauses, flinching at the memory— “you could have died. It would have been my fault, Alex. It would have been my fault that I wasn't there with you.” 

Alex strokes her thumb in slow circles over the back of Piper’s hand, holding it a little tighter. It makes sense immediately: the bags under Piper’s eyes and the fact that she’s always nearby, always somewhere within earshot, following Alex and keeping a close eye on her. It’s Piper’s way of trying to correct a mistake, and as usual, she’s overdoing it a little.

“It’s not your fault, Piper. I joined the cartel before I met you. I made the decision to testify against Kubra. I put _myself_ in danger.” 

“But _I_ left you alone.” Piper’s eyes are wide and wet and restless; she looks fragile again, the way she hasn’t for days now. “I keep— I keep thinking, if I had a time machine, that’s what I’d do over. I’d go back, and… be there for you. I’d just _be_ there, Alex. When you needed me.” 

It’s the closest she’s ever come to talking about her propensity for leaving at critical moments, and she sounds so genuinely sorry that it makes Alex’s throat feel tight all of a sudden.

“You know we can’t go back,” she says softly.

“I know.”

“But you’re here now. That’s what matters.” She pulls Piper gently toward her, placing a feather-light kiss on her forehead. “Let’s just do it differently this time, okay? Break the pattern. Try _not_ screwing each other over, for a change.” 

She nudges Piper’s shoulder, grinning, and Piper offers up a watery smile in return. 

“Deal,” she says, and they shake on it.

“Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Get some sleep. You’re exhausted.”

It's Piper's turn to return the shoulder nudge. She shakes her head, smiling. "I'm fine." 

“You are _not_. Your face almost hit the table. Nicky was miming it right in front of you, and you didn’t even notice because your eyes were closed.” She scoots toward the end of the bed, gesturing for Piper to lay down. "C'mere." 

“I’m not sure—“

“Piper.” Alex lets out an exasperated laugh. “Come _here_.” She tugs her down gently, cradling Piper’s head in her lap. “Just close your eyes, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

She strokes Piper’s hair and is rewarded with an appreciative hum; kisses her forehead one last time and then settles back against the wall to get comfortable. It doesn’t take long for Piper’s breathing to even out as she drifts off to sleep. Alex watches the rise and fall of her chest for a while, memorizing it. Then, in the relative safety of her bunk and with Piper asleep against her body, Alex closes her eyes and allows time to play its tricks on her.

_ \-- It is morning in a hotel room in Paris; the sheets are rumpled but cool beneath her. The sun is rising, soft light spilling into the room through the gaps in the curtains, and Piper’s hair is half on Alex’s shoulder. Everything is still except for the faint motion of their synchronized breathing. In a while Alex will have to get up and conduct business, but for now she is relaxed, suspended inside a moment of utter content.  _

If they’re going to cherry-pick through the past, this is the scene Alex chooses to hold onto: the day is new and soft and full of promise. No one has died yet, or left her. Piper’s sleeping figure beside hers is a steady and comforting presence.  This is how it should be: the past, rather than a problem to fixed, feels like a prologue for something better. 

_ \-- It is morning in Paris; it is morning in Northampton; it is morning in the Litchfield correctional facility. _

In each of these places, Alex is with Piper. In each of these moments, Alex is happy.

 


End file.
